To Save a Soul
by Corinne Jane
Summary: When Tony is taken after an undercover Op goes wrong, can Gibbs save him before it's too late? Or will someone with unknown  And often selfish and bad -intentions get to him first? Slash. Love Triangle.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors' Note-I do not own NCIS**

**This will be a love triangle.**

He laid on the cold ground shivering. He was naked, cold and wet. It felt like the warmth was being sucked right out of his body by a vacuum. Like a kiss of death. He laughed humorlessly, like they had enough mercy to let him die. No, they enjoyed this. For months he'd been kept locked up in a cold metal storage container. It had been renovated and remodeled to hold three tiny cells, currently the other two were vacant, but when he had first been captured there had been a little girl, no older than seven years old that lived in the cell next to his. He use to hear her crying for her parents every night, it broke his heart. He had made up stories to tell her every night, the only comfort he could give.

He wished he could have done more for the girl, but he was just as trapped as she was. It killed him to here the men abusing her, and her desperate little pleas for them to stop. It was only after they had killed her that he found out she was the daughter of a rival gang, and had been used as leverage until they finally had no use for her and sent her dead body in bits as a message to the opposing family. They use to taunt him for hours about it, knowing how he had grown to care for the little one. Eventually he just ignored them and would fall into a daze everytime someone mentioned her. They didn't bother now. No, now they just got on with it.

At first they had tortured him for information, but eventually they realized he wasn't going to speak. Now they did it for the kicks, and when the boss felt like giving it another go they'd bring him out for a session of questioning. Not that it ever did them any good, he was determined his lips weren't going to sink any ships. Literally. They had been investigating a murder of a marine when they found links to a deadly gang that moved all around the world. Apparently they had been selling and pushing cocaine, the Marine had been their middle man in the Corps. We had asked around base and eventually found out that a few had bought stuff from the dead marine, and that instead of giving the money to the dealers he had been laundering some, just enough to skim by without getting caught. Until he had a nice round sum of five mill in the bank.

The man that had come forward was the dead marine's best buddy. When asked if he would go undercover with an NCIS agent and play middle man for the NCIS agent he had readily agreed. And so Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had chosen Tony to pose as a marine wanting to buy a large amount of cocaine, and the other marine, Marcus, would take Tony to meet the people that his best buddy had done business with, after being trusted into the middle man position by the gang. Thus was how Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo had ended up in the position he found himself in currently. It was suppose to be just a routine bust. Get in, get enough evidence to convict, then in swooped the calvary to take down the bad guys.

But like usual in his life things never did go as planned. His earwig fell out when he had been slammed against the wall to be searched, these weren't gentle men. They had seen it and soon stepped on it. They instantly killed Marcus on the spot, and though he now wished they had done the same to him, they kept him alive for information. They didn't stop to torture him then, no. They had an aircraft waiting, tying him up they shoved him on it, and flew with him to a different location where the torture had began. It had been months since he had been taken, and he doubted they were still looking for him-well officially at least. He knew Gibbs would never stop looking for him. He shivered. best to forget his family, to forget them and everything else about his life.

He knew he'd never see them again, no, the last people he'd ever see were his captors. He was in no doubt about his fate. He had been there long enough to know when some of their birthdays were. They would never let him go, even if they wanted to, which of course they didn't. He needed to forget, because thinking about the people he loved only made it all hurt worse. Especially when he thought about Gibbs. Everything hurt then. Just his name made him home sick, god he wished he could just speak to him once more. To tell him how he felt about him, to tell him to not feel bad when he died, to tell him to not quit. There was so much that needed to be said, it filled him with regret that he'd die without ever getting a chance to speak them.

Which is why he spoke them to the night air every night before he tried getting to sleep, hoping the wind would carry them to Gibbs' ears. He shifted, groaning in pain as he tried to crawl to a cleaner part of the cell, but no matter where he went his blood stained and pooled on the floor. He looked at his broken body, he could see the bones of his legs sticking out, the muscles and tendons and skin hanging off the bones, an ugly infection turning the surrounding skin green and black, cuts littered his body, as did blister and welts. Healing burns disfigured his entire left side, holes healing where they had hammered nails into him. He was soaking wet from them shoving him into a tub full of boiling water. Skin sliding off of him as blisters formed. His body was a mess.

He hardly felt the pain anymore. All he could feel was tired, pain was as normal to him now as breathing. Just a background feeling. No matter what they did to him he wouldn't speak. But it was only a matter of time, he knew this. Every man had their breaking point, eventually everyone would break under torture, some just lasted longer, and he was no superman. But the longer he held out the longer he'd stay alive. And even though he longed for death or the strong arms of Gibbs to envelop him in safety, he would not betray his friends to achieve it. His world was nothing but agony and hopelessness. He felt pathetic that every time someone would come to his cell he'd light up even if it was one of his torturers, so starved was he of human contact. It was always so quiet, the only sound he could hear was the growling of his hungry stomach.

He was allowed a single cup of water every two days, and a piece of bread every three days. After two weeks they'd allow him soup and half a sandwich. It was the highlight of his life in this dim chamber of hell. He cried out silently as he rolled onto his broken ribs. He knew better than to be loud, it only got him punished. He silently prayed even though he knew it was futile, he had given up on being saved a while ago, the last time he heard they were in Paris. Gibbs would still be looking in the States. Gibbs. He had to stop saying the name, it brought tears to his eyes as he fantasized once more about the door bursting open and looking up into his boss's striking blue eyes as he leaned down and gathered him in his strong arms, carrying him to safety. He also needed to stop fantasizing. It gave him hope when there was none.

But it was the only thing that seemed to pass the time and he was so unbearably lonely that even imaginary conversations with the man he secretly loved helped pass the time. There were times he thought he was losing his mind, but crazy people don't think they're crazy, right? He knew that he was close to breaking. He could feel it inside, but he tried holding on to himself, hugging himself as much as possible, as if he would physically fall apart if he didn't-although that wasn't far from the truth. He had screamed at first, the first few weeks had been pure hell, but he grew use to the pain, he didn't enjoy it but he had grown to tolerate it as a condition of being alive. Now he didn't make a sound other than a grunt and gasp of misery, which drove his captors crazy but also challenged them to find new ways of causing him pain.

Just yesterday they had forced him to give each one of them a blow job, he had burned red in humiliation and shame. When they had brought him back to his cell he lay in the corner silently crying, hoping for a quick death as they stood in the doorway talking about all the sexual positions he'd be in soon enough. He had only gotten through it by imagining the cocks were Gibbs. If his boss ever found that out though he'd be deader then dead. He shuddered, it seemed that tonight they were going to leave him alone. Suddenly the sound of a door opening proved him wrong. He sighed praying they'd brought the whip and nothing more. He tuned his ears in, there was an extra set of steps with them, he tried thinking about what day it was, they only came in pairs at night, not in triplets.

The only times he had ever seen them come in threes was when someone was being initiated into the gang. They had to prepare the newbies for the job they would be doing, seeing if they were hardened enough to get the job done. If they weren't they were killed to keep their mouths shut. He shuddered, just what he needed another monster to torment him. He closed his eyes, facing away as he heard them unlocking the padlock on the door, he could hear them talking about him.

"I wonder if the filthy pig cop is even awake. Especially after todays excursions." The one called Alistair said. He had been the one to first pop his mouth open and shove his cock in the Agent's mouth. He could hear the others snickering as the door swung open.

"Hey, cop, roll over, let the newb see your beautiful face lover boy." His captor taunted.

Sighing he rolled over as they walked to his side, he opened his eyes slowly, looking up at the three men that were staring down at him. "Who knew a cop could give such excellent blow jobs. If you want to play with him you'll have to wait for us to be through with him." Alistair continued.

"Navy Cop." He corrected numbly. Too shocked to really care, he never expected the man above him to find him. He probably wasn't here to save him, he was probably handling Devon, the ringleader of the whole organization but still, to see even this man's face made him feel like weeping. He tried not to show the hope that beamed through him. They may not get along, and he may in fact not save him at all, maybe even help them torture him, but so long as he was around there was some sort of hope. He felt his eyes burn and this time he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his face.

Alistair laughed, "First day on the job and you already made him cry Jordan. We may keep you yet, if for nothing other than to make his life hell."

Anthony DiNozzo couldn't stop himself, he turned his teary gaze onto the one man that could save him, gathering his courage, and cutting down his pride, he sent a pleading look up at Trent Kort.

...

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was tired. There was no other way of putting it, and his team-well what was left of it anyways-was beginning to notice. He was slowly losing grip, but who could blame him? His Senior Field Agent had been taken from him months ago, seven months ago to be exact. Vance had forced him to officially pronounce him dead and return to working on cases, but that didn't stop him from calling in favors and searching for his loyal St. Bernard in his spare time. He hardly slept, hardly ever ate, he couldn't stop thinking about Tony. His right hand man.

He may never admit this to anyone but he missed the man dearly, the office was too quiet, the agent Vance called into replace DiNozzo-Gibbs had refused to do it himself-was arrogant and unreliable. He knew the psychiatrists that lingered in the hallways and just outside the bullpen were concerned about his obsessing over his 'dead' agent. Obsessing. He snorted. He might be over-obsessing but what else could you do when one of your own was taken by a gang? DiNozzo wasn't dead, he would know if his best agent was dead. Tony had been with him for ages, longer than any other agent had dared stay on with him, and he satisfied himself with the knowledge that he, the notorious LJ Gibbs, was the only boss who managed to keep DiNozzo for more than two years.

The only fallback in having a man around that long was that you get attached, and he was definitely attached to DiNozzo, ovely-attached in fact. He cared for DiNozzo in a different way then he cared for his other people. He loved him. He didn't know how long he had loved him for but he could remember when he first labelled his feelings for Tony as love. Tony had been with him for four years at the time, and he had been sent undercover as a convict chained to Jeffrey-a sociopath who was smuggling butt loads of history out of the middle east. They had lost Tony and only caught up to him after he was nearly killed. He had opened the door after seeing the blood splattered on the window behind him, his heart beating wildly with panic, Tony looked up at him and said, "I really liked him."

And that's the moment I knew I loved him. Only DiNozzo, someone so pure and good could befriend a sociopath. He needed that, after everything he'd done, both in the Marine's, in his black op days and in his more recent position of Team Leader of the MCRT. He had been tainted by the world, evil stained upon him as he committed monstrosities that riveled that of DiNozzo's adversary Trent Kort. If only DiNozzo knew. He was always afraid that the young man would, eventually, stumble across his past and he'd lose whatever affection DiNozzo had for him-and he knew Tony cared for him, it was all too obvious with the stares and how much fear his eyes would show when something was wrong with him, how he always had his back, how he followed him around like a puppy dog. Losing that, losing Tony would hurt more than losing his three ex-wives had hurt.

But now, it seemed like he had lost him for good, without ever getting to tell Tony that he loved him. Even if Tony wasn't dead he had no new leads, the gang had been moving quietly, they hadn't left a trail of body's like before. Probably were laying low until they thought it was safe to resume business, little did they know that he would never stop searching for his man. Sometimes he lay awake imagining all the horrors they were putting Tony through as he slept. The guilt gnawed at him, the nightmares ate him alive. His heart nearly broke at the idea of anything happening to Tony, but to see him tortured would be too much. God knew what the hell they had already done to him, just contemplating all the possibilites made his head and heart hurt. He prayed for help every night. He hoped when he found Tony, not if but when, that the beautiful agent would still be the same as he was before they took him.

Hopefully he'd be spared the pain of brain damage or a psychotic break. And when he found Tony the first thing he would do was hold him in his arms and kiss him, he didn't care who else was there to witness it. But first they needed to find the gang who had the love of his life and with them being so quiet lately it seemed unlikely. He knew it was only a matter of time but that wasn't something Tony had alot of. Taking another swig of his whiskey he sat in his empty basement. Usually there'd be a boat where he sat, but he didn't have time to build a boat, and wouldn't until he found Tony. He was beyond too exhausted to do anything but drink himself into oblivion like he had been the past several months. It was a temptation he found hard to resist without Tony around. He missed the man something fierce, and at times the memories would suffocate him, how Tony looked when he smiled, all his jokes and pranks, his movie quotes and his innocent goodness, his cunning eye and mind, his everything. Everything about Tony would suffocate him, and the only way to forget, to not feel the emptiness was to drink, which made him forget about Tony, and wiped away all the pain but it just left him feeling emptier in the end.

Yet that didn't detur him from polishing off a few bottles of whiskey a night. He knew Ducky was concerned about him, the old doctor kept lecturing him about how he couldn't find Tony if he was in the hospital dying of liver failure. But didn't he see he couldn't live without it? If he let Tony suffocate him he'd go insane, and Tony would be left to suffer at those man's hands forever and he couldn't allow that. He looked gloomily around the empty room and laid back on the small cot he had set up in the corner, it was covered in Tony's clothes, the man's scent drenched into them. Which is exactly why he slept there instead of in his own bed. He had told his team to put some clothes of theirs in his extra room in case any of them needed a place to stay and he was glad he did or this comfort may not be afforded to him.

He buried his face deep into one of Tony's shirts, inhaling deeply he felt a warm buzz in his head. He sunk into a relaxed sleep. But that only lasted for a few hours before the nightmares began like clock work.

_Tony was on the floor, his eyes raked over the bruised and battered body, heart breaking he tried to reach out to him but no matter how close he got he could never feel the silky warm skin beneath his hands. How he longed to comfort the broken man in front of him, to swoop in and save him. His heart bled as he watched the man he loved bleed and gasp for breathe between broken ribs. That's when the door opened, a shadowy figure entered, it was a man, he could hear the deep chuckle, he could see everything but the face._

_The man kicked Tony over before straddling his waist, and before Gibbs could scream out the man was thrusting into Tony. He tried to rip the man off of his love, but he couldn't touch him either. He watched hopelessly as the man held Tony down and raped him, it broke him to watch this happen to his man, to see him laying lifeless, silent tears dripping down his agents face as the beast on top of him moaned. "No..." He said in agony, it felt like white hot knives in the heart, "Not my Tony, oh please no. Let it be me." _

_Something was different tonight though as the mystery man finished off inside of Tony he looked up, and Gibbs felt a scream issue from his throat as he realized the man raping Tony was himself._

He jolted up in the small cot, screaming his man's name. Standing up, he started roaming the house, looking for him, hoping to turn a corner and lay his gaze on the beloved man. He would do this all night, like he did every night since Tony was taken.

Because it was all his fault.

**A/N Please Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note-THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS. The more reviews I get the faster I'll update. **

He watched with dwindling hope as Kort-Or Jordan-smirked down at him. Amusement sparkling in his cold blue eyes as he stared down at the tortured man at his feet, a thimble of Malt Liquor in his hand. He kneeled down next to the NCIS Agent, sitting on his haunches he drawled out in his accent as he ran a hand through DiNozzo's hair, "Yes, you were right. He's a very gorgeous creature. Bet he's still a virgin too. Yes...there's many things I could do with him."

His blood ran cold, shivering involuntarily as Kort ran his fingers over him, he glared up at the spy. He knew the man was doing his job, but it was still to be seen whether he would help him or not. "Can you get him to talk? That's what Devon is really concerned about." Alistair clipped out.

"Most definitely. I'm already getting ideas. Nasty ideas." The british man smirked, standing back up. "When do you want me to start?"

"As soon as possible." Alistair grinned coldly, beginning to leave the chamber with the others. From the floor he watched desperately as the two scumbags walked out the door with his last hope of redemption.

"Hey wait! What about my water?" He called after them, it was his day to have a glass, and he could already feel the dehydration getting to him, Kort shrugged and walked back to him, maliciously pouring the liquor all over his face.

"Enjoy." He said softly, as the other men laughed. He glared up at Kort, watching him walk away, this time not sorry to see him go. Cursing he tried wiping off the burning liquor but it only made it worse, biting his lip as the liquid entered his open wounds and eyes, blinking back tears as it burned a path up his nose. Fuck. He rolled on his other side breathing deeply, he kicked the side of the container, hopelessness filling him. Before he could stop them the tears came rolling down his face, his shoulders shook.

He tried to stop crying before they heard him but once he started he found he couldn't mute his cries, whispering, "Boss, Gibbs, please someone find me. Help me. I don't want to die." And yet he knew he would.

...

Frustrated he slammed his desk phone down. He had awoken that morning with a hangover and one massive headache. Which only seemed to grow worse as the morning progressed, it didn't help that his goddamn phone kept ringing either. He'd throw it across the room but he was too afraid that when his phone was broken Tony would try to call for help, or just simply to say, 'Hey boss, I got away, I'm somewhere's in the Middle East, can you give me directions? All I see is sand. But I'm near a huge ant hill.' Logically he knew that wasn't going to happen but he couldn't risk it, not when the stakes were so high. He lived on hopes and would until the day he either died or found Tony's body.

He felt the familiar ache whenever he thought of Tony. He tried not thinking about the man at work, it was much harder to get the job done and the case solved when you were focused on trying to find your agent, and your mind was full of all the things you would do to him when he was found. The least of which being packing his things and moving him into your own place. Hearing footsteps he jerked his head up quickly, his eyes full of hope, he was sorely disappointed to see Vance instead of his beloved Senior Field Agent in front of him. "Leon."

"Gibbs. Care to explain why I just recieved this complaint from Agent Foreman that you head-slap him and make him clean the toilets every time he's late." Vance said the paper in his hands, swaying in the air between the two men.

"Maybe because he can't be on time. Perhaps you should teach him to work an alarm clock." He sneered, the newbie was really beginning to annoy him, always running to Daddy when something didn't go his way. He wouldn't last long in the field if he kept this shit up. But what did he care? Once DiNozzo came back his ass would be out of here quicker than a blink of an eye.

"Really? I think it's because he's not Tony. You can't punish him for that." Vance said sternly. He didn't say a word as Vance walked away, just stared at the plasma. The picture of a dead marine staring at him accusingly. It was almost as if the dead hero knew that Gibbs didn't care a thing about solving his case. Usually he felt outraged when someone murdered a fellow marine, he'd do anything to catch the killer, but ever since Tony had been taken he hadn't cared much for anything.

He swallowed wondering if one day he'd be staring at Tony up on that screen. No. That would not happen, most definitely not. Taking a deep breathe he rubbed his hands over his face, wishing for some peace and quiet to gather his thoughts, he needed to find the killer. He sighed as another cup of coffee was placed before him, looking up he had expected Ziva or even McGee but not Abby. Yet there she was standing in front of him, her arms folded. This was a daily routine, Abby would bring him coffee at the same time everyday, and lecture him on not finding DiNozzo, he'd sit there and listen and tell her to keep trying to track them. Reassuring her he was doing the best he could. And he was. God he was. He wanted Tony back more than anyone else.

"Gibbs. Tell me why you're sitting here, when you should be finding Tony." She demanded, tapping her fingers on her arm.

"Because we have a killer to find. Believe it or not Abbs life does go on without DiNozzo." He said coldly, trying to mask his real feelings, trying not to scream 'but why?'

"But it's not the same. I want Tony back." She whined. She looked away. "Do you even think he's still alive?"

His head snapped up, this was something different, not once had Abby even thought of Tony dead, he blinked, "Yes, I do." Because if he wasn't...well he didn't want to think of what he would do if Tony was no longer part of this world. He couldn't entertain the notion, it would push him over the edge. "Abby, please, get back to work."

"But Gibbs-"

"That wasn't a request Abby." He said in a voice that brooked no argument, he watched her slink off, he sighed, he had even become short with Abby. It felt like he was a completely different person without Tony. How in the hell had he become so dependent on the young italian? Rising from his desk he grabbed his cell before sweeping out of the High-Security building and began walking. He didn't stop, not until he was in Tony's apartment, sitting on his couch, staring dumbly at his man's movies. He came here often, he paid the rent for Tony. Just in case Tony didn't return his feelings and wanted his apartment when he came home. He laid down on the sofa, burying his face in DiNozzo's favorite pillow, inhaling the man's scent.

Suddenly his phone was ringing, he groaned, Who the hell was calling him now? He wanted to be left alone. Sure it was Vance calling to tell him off about how he was slacking off at work he ignored it, letting it go to voicemail until he got curious and peeked at the number. His brow furrowed, he didn't recognize it, and only a few people had his cell number. His heart swelled once more with hope, Tony. It had to be. His hands shook as he pressed redial, and prepared himself to hear his Second in Command's voice across the line. Prepared to tell him just how much he loved him. His heart beat fiercely, he could feel it, and hear it in his ears, it hurt, it seemed to ring forever. He prayed he hadn't missed his chance.

"Jordan." A british voice he was all too familiar with answered, he growled.

"Kort. What do you want?" He snapped annoyed that the man had the nerve to call him after refusing to help locate DiNozzo. He had been desperate, Tony meant everything to him, including his pride. So when he called Kort up hoping he'd help find Tony, telling the british spy he'd owe him big time he expected to hear that he'd at least make some interdepartmental inquiries. But he had done nothing. He had hung up without saying a word.

"So feisty Gibbs. But I found your missing agent. Who knew it would be so easy?" Gibbs could hear him laughing before he continued, "Be in Paris in three days time. Check for storage facilities." And with that the call ended. Gibbs jumped off the sofa, rushing out of the apartment and to his home he haphazardly began to pack. Three days until he got to see Tony, three days until he came home. Three days until he could hold the man in his arms and whisper 'I love you's' in his ears. He felt lighter than he had in ages, and for once a true wide smile light up his entire face and demeanor, he could sing and skip he was so happy.

He never stopped to consider that it had been Kort, _Trent Kort_, who had delivered him this information. Not once.

...

He was nervous, they had left him alone for quite a while, it was unusual and hardly good news. As sick as it seemed he longed for them to get on with it, the waiting was killing him. But that probably was the point, eventually they'd come and have some fun with him like always, and throughout it all he'd be able to do is hold onto his chains and pretend they were Gibbs' hands. Only the thought of Gibbs could make him strong, could give him the will to keep on living. He hoped Kort had gotten into contact with his boss, he had no idea if he did, he hadn't seen him since he first appeared three nights ago.

At the moment he didn't care if the man had contacted his boss or had come just for fun to watch the torture and get a few good kicks in himself, he was just glad to see a familiar face. It was something to hold onto, something to relate to. Maybe he could get Kort to tell him what day it was, it would be nice to have the date. To know what month they were in. He didn't care what Kort did to him so long as he could see him every once in a while. He nearly laughed, here he was getting anxious over seeing Kort. This was proof of how much things could change in such a short period of time-even though it felt like eternity so far.

He could hear the door opening, he scrunched his eyes closed, he had wished they'd come soon, but now that they were here he felt tendril of terror wrap around his heart. He turned over, his eyes eager to find Trent's, and find them they did. He could feel the cold hatred the man emanated as he stepped close to him. He nearly shrunk back, but he had nowhere's to go and moving hurt him too much. "Well, well, well Agent DiNozzo. Looks like you got yourself into quite the mess. Bit off a bit more than you could chew, heh?" He smirked, true amusement in his eyes as the two men watched behind him. Glaring as Kort patted his cheek, but never once did his eyes leave his, they found too much comfort in familiarity.

He begged for some sign of mercy, for some gentleness, little did he know just how gentle Kort was to get, he watched in confusion as Kort snapped on a pair of gloves. He watched in growing nervousness and dread as Kort opened a black garbage bag, groaning and trying to move away as posion ivy leaves spilled out of the bag. His eyes widened as Kort took a few leaves and rubbed them hard against his skin, paying special attention to his injuries. He hissed and gritted his teeth, Kort went from feet to head, as he rubbed the leaves along DiNozzo's cheeks he leaned down and whispered, "Whatever you do, do not itch."

Biting his lip DiNozzo nodded almost imperceptibly, licking his lips he whimpered, making sure no one could see he brushed his fingers along Kort's outstretched arm, mouthing, "Gibbs." Kort nodded at him, looking him in the eyes, mouthing, "Called. Three days." The NCIS agent tensed and bit his lip, cringing as Kort stood back up, and stepped back to study his master piece. Tony laid on the ground squirming, trying to get away. He knew the real effects of poison ivy wouldn't occur until later but that thought didn't comfort him, at all. His life was going to be even more hellish. He took comfort in the fact that Kort had indeed helped him, and Gibbs was on his way.

He watched them laugh and leave, so they wouldn't stick around to watch him suffer, he was sure they had cameras somewhere's in the room but at least he wouldn't see their laughing faces as he tried to relieve the pain. He felt a curious pang as Trent left, he wanted him to stay but to ask would be suspicious, for him to stay on his own volition would look suspicious as well. It was hard enough to contain his relief when he realized it would be Kort who would rub the leaves on him, who would be touching him so gently and rubbing it all over him. If he had to suffer through it, he'd prefer it be Trent that stripped his dignity from him. He'd been gentle, he knew the others wouldn't have. They'd have kicked him, taunted him, pinched him. Anything to cause pain. Kort hadn't. He just hoped that Kort's little show of mercy didn't get him in trouble.

Sure enough, nearly half an hour later, he was burning and itching and in genuine hell, he tried to heed Kort's advice but it was hard, he had to bite himself from itching or rubbing on the floor like a fucking cat with catnip or pig with his own shit. He whimpered and cried out, blood pouring out of mouth as he bit his lip, he clawed at the side of the container to keep his hands busy, he tried to distract himself but it was harder than usual, the more he moved the more his other injuries pained him, especially his broken legs, he nearly screamed when he hit one of the bones off the wall, nearly cried out Kort's name before he hit his bone again to keep his mouth shut, this time screaming for Gibbs.

Gibbs, Gibbs would be a great distraction. Oh how he missed him. He'd die for a head-slap right about now. To see the safety and strength that he provided. For now he'd have to deal with Kort, but Kort could only do so much for him, he understood that even if he hated him. He knew alot more lives were at stake if Kort blew his cover to rescue him. He could have sworn he saw regret and confliction in Kort's gaze earlier. But it didn't matter because Gibbs would be here in three days and he'd be safe, and Kort wouldn't need to feel guilty anymore-not that he cared if the man did, he was a prick.

Three more days. He smiled, trying to hide it as he groaned in pain. Three more days. That was what was going to get him through this bout with poison ivy, until his rescue. Three more days. He wanted to shout with joy. Home. Gibbs. He just wanted to cuddle with the man, he didn't care how straight he was, he'd been through enough to warrant some cuddling regardless of sexual orientation and if Gibbs didn't think so well he'd just have to deal with it. Because he _was_ going to get his cuddle.

He never stopped to consider that it had been Kort, _Trent Kort_, who had delivered him this information. Not once.

...

Devon stared at the newest member of his team, curiousity, fascination and pure joy lit up his features, "That's very inventive Jordan. A man of many talents I see."

"Thank you. I have heard some...unfortunate news however." The british man spoke smoothly, his eyes sparkling with malice.

"And what is that?" Devon looked at him with venom.

"The Agent you have in back, DiNutso his name? His boss hasn't stopped searching for his missing agent since you took him. I heard he's getting closer, one of my informants in NCIS tell me he's booked a flight to France. He'll be here in four days time." He spoke quietly, taking out copies of the airlines records of the purchase, only a slight adjustment to the records was needed, Devon would never figure it out.

"You are very resourceful, Jordan." Devon spoke softly, he smirked, the words echoing that of La Grenouille's.

"I try. If I may? I suggest we move him early the third morning. Leave the container behind, as a message to his boss, maybe he'll think his agent is dead." He spoke quietly curling his lips.

"Why not just leave right now?" Devon asked openly curious.

"Because he's monitoring the airlines just as I am, even private flights will be too risky. He'll easily pick you out of the bunch, private airliner and all. But if he's already on his way to Paris, on the plane what will he be able to do?" Jordan cocked his head.

"Yes, I can see your point. Well, I'll send some men ahead to scout out our new home. The boss can't have his man back just yet, I'm not done with him yet. He'll get him back though, broken or dead." Devon smiled, Jordan raised his glass of wine, and they toasted.

He never stopped to consider that it had been Kort, _Trent Kort_, who had delivered him this information. Not once.

**Author's note-Review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note-Thanks for all the reviews guys, also thanks for the critique's. if you have any suggestions, or ideas, or something you want to see in the story just leave it in a review! The more reviews I get the more it encourages me to write, I really appreciate it. **

Gibbs waited for his team in his basement, he had called everyone together once more, they hadn't met in his house since Tony was accused of La Grenouille's death. This time they'd rally to save his life, he ran a hand over his face, impatiently pacing around, feeling useless. He felt guilty, he didn't know why, it's not like it was his fault his agent was captured, he had done everything he could. But still the guilt ate at him, the guilt that his agent-the man he loved-was suffering instead of him. He'd do anything to change spots with DiNozzo, yet there he was pacing around his basement perfectly fine, while god knew what was happening to his agent.

He shook his head , it would do Tony no good to dwell on his feelings. He sighed in relief when he heard their footsteps across the ceiling, when they were circled in front of him he looked each of them in the eye. "Alright, I got new information on DiNozzo last night. Apparently he is alive, and has been located."

The looks of shocked disbelief washed over the team, he knew each one of them had at first denied Tony's death, even shortly after Tony was pronounced dead they had each denied it. But then when months passed and no DiNozzo, well it messed with your head. He watched Ducky's eyes fill with pity, Ziva shook her head, Tim looked like he dare not believe such a thing. Only Abby looked at him with trust and belief. However it was Ducky who spoke first.

"Jethro...I know how close you and young Anthony were, " The hell he did. "but he's gone. I don't want to admit it but the chances of him still being alive are slim to none."

"Be that as it may Duck I rather be one hundred percent sure before I bury him." He said calmly, none of them could look him in the eye, he wondered if they all thought he was crazy.

"Where is he then?" Abby spoke quietly, he flashed a small smile, the only one he could muster.

"Paris. I'm suppose to fly there tomorrow. Kort said to look for storage facilities. McGee I want you to find the nearest facilities to the airport in Paris." He said, standing up. "Ziva you are coming with me, as are you Duck. Abby you are going to stay in case we need technical support or to track something. Understood?" They all nodded, he watched as McGee struggled not to argue with the decision, he obviously wanted to help find Tony, but understood why he had to stay behind.

Ducky frowned, "Jethro, this is the CIA we're speaking of. They just don't give something like that up. What's in it for them?"

He shrugged, he honestly didn't know and didn't care. If he got DiNozzo back that was all that mattered, he didn't care who helped him. He'd find Tony at any cost, even if it meant selling his soul to the devil. "Don't know. Don't care. Just get packed, we're going in the morning."

They nodded, he looked at Ziva, she had tears in her eyes. His heart ached, he hoped Kort was right, hoped he wasn't playing with them. Because he had just given his agents hope, and if he had to break it to them that Tony was dead, well he didn't think they could handle DiNozzo dying twice. And neither could he.

...

When I awoke I was expecting to be alone. Given time to recover from last night, but obviously that wasn't to be. Blinking my green eyes groggily I nearly pissed myself when I realized I was staring into blue eyes, I nearly glared when those lips curled into a sneer. "Rise and shine, sweetcheeks." The british man drawled smirking as he leaned over me.

"Don't you ever take a day off?" I sneered, curling up just a bit, my whole body in excruciating pain, the movement leaving me gasping in pain, Kort just raised an eyebrow.

"And here I was thinking you'd be happy to see me." The spy chuckled as he pulled a bottle out of a box near his feet. "Today is not going to be fun."

I watched in silence as Kort took out bottle after bottle of chemicals, sighing in resignation, bitterly snapping, "Whatever. I don't care." I felt a wave of hopeless frustration wash over me, "Do whatever you want to me, it's not like it matters anymore. I'm going to die here anyways. Have your fun." Bitterly swallowing back tears of rage and resentment.

"Oh trust me DiNozzo, I will."

I cried out in pain as Kort dragged me up a bit, cradling me with one arm around my shoulders he leaned me against his chest, I chanced one last look at the CIA Agent, my green eyes meeting blue, and what met me there shocked me to the core. There was regret in the man's usually empty and cold sea blue eyes. It was only there for a second before Kort tensed and his shields snapped back up, but I had seen it. It comforted me, it also confirmed what I already suspected. Trent was doing what he had to do, but not what he wanted to. I sighed in relief, nodding up at Kort, giving him the go ahead to do whatever it was he had been sent here to do.

I watched as he unscrewed a bottle of Dawn Dish Soap and mixed it with a bottle of Lysol, shaking them together he unscrewed the lid once more and raised me further, hesitating before he raised it to my lips. I struggled, but only for show, I didn't want to make it more difficult for him, it wouldn't end well for either of us if I did. I snorted, this was Kort for gods sake, I hoped I wasn't developing Stockholm Syndrome. I doubted I was, after all Kort seemed to be the only ally I had here, the only hope I had of rescue, of getting out of this alive. It would do no good to blow his cover, if I had to go through three days of more pain to get out than I would. Kort was just something to hang onto until I was reunited with my team, my family, my Gibbs.

After months of being in this metal container with no human contact other than to be tortured by heartless fiends, seeing Kort was like seeing God. Like I said before, Kort may have some nasty ideas but he was gentle. This time though, he had no control over how much pain the chemicals would would put me in. I closed my eyes feeling the bottle pressed to my lips, fear making my heart beat faster, I pressed my lips closed, I shook my head. I couldn't. Oh shit, I just couldn't. My heart began pounding like a race horse's, my breathing sped up, I could feel my lungs burning with the need for oxygen but I couldn't get a breathe in, I felt myself grab onto Trent's wrist, gripping it hard, shaking my head. Who knew what those chemicals would do?

I would be in sheer agony for hours. Puking, my stomach killing me, my fever becoming worse, hallucinations probably, the terrible after taste. What if they shut down one of my organs? What if they killed me? I couldn't. After everything I had been through I could feel myself hanging on to sanity, to the world by a thread and as the bottle loomed closer and Kort's hands tightened on me I could see it breaking. I clawed at his face. I had to get away, I couldn't just let him do this to me, what the hell was I thinking? In my panicked state, spending my time trying to get away from Trent even though there was no where's to go, I hadn't heard Kort trying to talk to me, nor the footsteps that were running to the container.

"DiNozzo!" He hissed, shaking me, placing the bottle besides him, knowing no one was in the security room manning the cameras anymore. "You got to stop, if you don't they'll come in here, And they won't be nice-you of all people know that."

"Can't. No more." I shook my head, all I could smell was the chemicals, I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't want to lose it in front of Kort, I had tried to keep it together, but no matter how hard I tried it was like some force, some demon inside of me was rising up and taking control of me. I locked eyes with his, hearing the footsteps closing in, I grabbed the collar of his suit, I wasn't going to plead to him, I wasn't. I still had some small piece of my pride, and I knew he didn't want to do this either, as weird as it seemed that Trent wanted to help me. But why? Why did the CIA Scum want to help me? Kort wasn't a good person, there had to be something in it for him, of that I was sure.

But what? As I heard a loud bang, I realized now wasn't the time to be thinking about it, instead I glanced up at Trent, I had cut open his lip, scratched his face open and left a bruise around his eyes, the white of his eyes becoming blood. I winced, and stopped struggling, the panick still in my eyes but my body simply couldn't keep up the fight. "You can DiNozzo, one more day." He said stiffly, his eyes cold, but his body still tense, I lay limp in his arms, unable to fathom how he kept me in his arms this entire time, I locked onto his eyes, breathing heavily. He stared back into mine, knowing I needed to get lost in something, to hang onto something as he did this to me, I don't know why this frightened me so much, I couldn't explain the terror I felt.

I could feel my breathe hitch once more, trying to keep my eyes dry in front of this man, I felt the bottle press against my lips, could hear him call out that the situation was under control. I grabbed his wrist so the cameras couldn't see, and twisted my face as the chemicals hit my tongue, I could already feel the mixture burning my tongue. I coughed and gagged as it ran down my throat, I couldn't scream because it would go into my already infected lungs, I tightened my grip on his wrist. The man didn't blink or wince, it was like he couldn't feel the death grip I had on his wrist, he tried not to look at what he was doing to me, instead he remained cold, but allowed my grip as he forced the harmful chemicals down my throat. It took eons to get all the chemicals into me, before he drew away and breathing deeply he grabbed the last bottle, Bleach. He twisted the cap off before standing up and pouring the gallon of bleach all over my naked body.

I screamed and jerked around, trying to get it off of me, already my stomach was twisting, my organs flaring in pain, I groaned in agony. He tossed the bleach bottle aside and without looking back slammed the door shut, leaving me to suffer alone. My gut twisting, I could feel myself heaving, the contents of my stomach splattering over the floor, my mouth frothing, immense pain shot up my stomach to my heart to my head. I clutched my body, blisters on my lips and tongue. It wasn't long before I was sweating, shaking, and twitching, moaning as my eyes glazed over. This was pure agony, never before had I experienced anything like it.

...

Ziva David was packing, mostly knives and guns, but some clothes as well. She hoped they wouldn't use the public airport, security would have a heart attack if they saw what she had in her bag. She sure as hell wasn't going into this rescue mission weaponless, no, she planned to kill the bastards that had ripped Tony from them. And god help them if he was dead by the time they got there. She didn't often show her emotions but when Gibbs had said there was still a chance of Tony being alive, that he was alive and waiting for them to come rescue him, the thought was almost too much.

She couldn't think of Tony alive, not just yet. She didn't mean to doubt him or wish him dead, but the grief she had been carrying with her all these months had been painful. She couldn't go through it again, she couldn't lose her best friend twice, and she wouldn't. She couldn't risk hope, she usually could trust Gibbs implicitly and explicitly but these last few months he hadn't been the same person, more than once a Letter of Resignation would sit on his desk before disappearing the next morning. He also seemed distracted, unable to focus on the cases and catching the bad guys. She knew he was still looking for Tony, she had been as well, in secret, using her contacts to try to track the gang. With no luck. What she hadn't known was just how deep Gibbs was, how he had delved straight into investigating Tony's where abouts.

She had seen him consumed before but nothing like this, it frightened her. She had chosen to take McGee instead of Gibbs when in the field, while Gibbs was a better mark from his sniper days, McGee's head was with having her six and not finding his missing Senior Field Agent. She didn't resent him, she pitied him. She yearned to help, to tell him she was looking as well, but she didn't want to be pulled into the obsessiveness Gibbs had indulged in. She was too frightened of what she may find. And once her contacts reported back to her with no news she was almost certain Tony was dead. She began to wait for his body parts in the mail. Dreading the day they had his entire body together in Autopsy.

What killed her the most was not knowing. They couldn't even give Tony a proper burial. All he got was a press statement and an obituary. The man deserved much more than that, and as painful as it would be to bring back Tony's body in a bag it would be better than nothing. They could give him a hero's funeral, like he deserved. She looked at the photos on her mantle, in Mossad she had never been allowed pictures, in case they ever fell into the wrong hands, but everything changed when she officially joined NCIS, she had become safer and could be herself. She could afford the small luxuries. She traced a hand over a large photograph of her and Tony leaning against the company car, laughing and smiling.

It felt like ages had passed since the photo was taken but in reality had only been a year. She smiled fondly, a tinge of sadness in her eyes. How she missed him. Life just wasn't the same. Nothing was as funny, mornings weren't as bright, and nights had become almost impossible. How could you sleep when your partner was god knows where having god knows what done to him? The bullpen was quieter, hardly anyone ever spoke, and almost everyone ignored the new guy. Morale was down and it didn't seem like it was going to be getting any higher until Tony was brought home.

She slipped her last knife into her waistband, shutting her suitcase she locked her apartment and left for the airport.

...

Tim stared at the computers in Abby's lab, wincing as her music sharpened his headache. Switching it off he grumpily plopped down in the chair and began his trace on Kort's phone, he had already gotten the lists of Storage facilities to his boss, and if he could trace Kort's phone than he could pin point exactly where Tony was. He felt sick to his stomach, what was happening to Tony? Would it even be the Tony they knew that they brought home? Was he still alive now? Could they even trust Kort? What if it was a set up? Everybody knew Gibbs would go to hell and back for Tony, even if Tony denied such a fact.

It was a well known fact that Tony was the favorite, although Gibbs only showed it by riding him harder, which is why McGee wasn't jealous. He was jealous of Ziva though, he had wanted to help rescue Tony, surely a third gun couldn't hurt, but instead he chose Ziva and Ducky. He understood why but it still didn't make sense to him. Whatever he had to do here could easily be done on a laptop. He wanted to have his teams six, he wanted to set eyes on Tony himself, he wanted to bring him home. After these long months of trying to convince people that Tony was alive he was soon to be justified in his belief. He wanted to scream I told you so, he wanted to shove Tony's beating heart in Vance's face, wanted to record his breathing and play it over the radio.

Instead he was stuck here waiting for a call saying they got Tony. It wasn't fair that Ziva, who had taken him for dead after two months got to go with Gibbs, while he, who had remained faithful to Tony all these long months had to stay behind. It was bullshit. He could go with them. In fact he would, he didn't give two shits. He missed Tony just as much as everybody else and he had just as much a right to help in his rescue. He didn't usually disobey Gibbs, but for Tony's sake he would. He'd risk his life. Even though the man would constantly torment him he had also been there for McGee, and even though Gibbs was a great leader he trusted no one to have his six as much as he did Tony.

With that he left Abby's lab and began packing. He wouldn't let Tony down, no, he was going to save him.

...

Hiding in the shadows I smirked, wiping the blood from my face, I pressed a tissue to my lip, throwing the bloody rags in the garbage can, I flipped open my cell, pressing number 3 on my speed dial, I only had to wait a second for the man to answer, "Gibbs."

"Gibbs, you better hurry, he's not going to last long. They poisoned him." I drawled out. I could hear him cursing.

"We have a flight out there tonight, we'll be there by tomorrow morning." Gibbs said, I smirked, of course Gibbs would come early, why would he wait?

"Good. Look for a red container with a smiley face." With that I hung up, turning back to the room I just left, I walked in.

"Sir, we have a problem. It's the boss, he's on his way now. We have to move him now." I spoke softly, knowing I was delivering bad news.

"Our new home isn't ready, yet. You said we had a few days." Devon hissed.

"My apologies, but the boss seems rather antsy about getting his agent back. Chances are he got a company helicopter." I answered bowing my head.

He breathed in, "Very well Jordan, we'll just have to move him regardless. Where do you think we should take him?"

I smirked.

...

I screamed, I tried clawing my way into the corner, but I wasn't fast enough, they were everywhere's, in my hair, my eyes, nostrils, ears, mouth, they were coming from under my skin. The cockroaches were eating me alive. I could feel their teeth sink into me, tearing off chunks of my skin and flesh. I writhed unable to get them off, they seemed to grow with the more they ate of me. I tried squishing them but they never died. All their feelers and feet scurrying on me and inside of me. I scratched and hit myself, rolling on the floor. I screamed and pleaded. But they wouldn't get off of me. I hit the door, my fists banging against it as I tried to break free.

I could feel myself sobbing, could feel the tears swelling down my face, could hear myself calling out Gibbs name as they ate me alive. I sobbed as I grabbed one and stuffed it into my mouth, biting down I heard an ear splitting crack and crunch, the insides oozing out of it's body, it still wriggled around in my mouth, and continued to as I ate it, swallowing it, I began to grab them in handfuls and shove them in my mouth.

God I was so hungry. I wept.

I was humiliated and shamed.

What I didn't know was that I was tearing my hair out and eating it. That I was biting my nails off until my fingers bled, I was chewing on my arm. The bugs only existed in my mind.

_Trent, help me. Oh please, save me._

I cried as I pleaded in my mind not knowing why it was to him I was turning, hating how pathetic I sounded, hating that I turned to the man for help at all. Hating myself for being weak and crying. I laid still as the bugs crawled over my body. I could tell from the little holes in the ceiling that it was night. I wondered if they would come back for sexual favors tonight. I hoped not, I was not in the mood to be abused that way tonight. Of course my luck hadn't been the best and I whimpered as the door opened. I didn't dare turn to see who it was.

I felt a cold hand press against my waist, I shuddered and flinched. "Just get it over with okay? Just fuck me like you always do and get out." I said harshly, pissed off.

The person behind me didn't speak, instead they laid a plate of food in front of me. Real food, heaped. It was a Thanksgiving dinner, and it looked like it had just been made. There was a huge heap of turkey, and stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberries, green bean casserole, even some pie, and a half a gallon of milk. My mouth watered. I sniffed the food, looking at it closely.

"It's not poisoned DiNozzo. And I'm not going to fuck you either. Relax. Nobody's going to bother you tonight. They're busy." I heard Kort say from behind. I jumped, I hadn't been expecting him. There was something off in his voice. Turning around I saw him set a blanket and pillow down.

"Trying to feel less guilty?" I said coldly. He didn't respond besides to curl his lip. I just shrugged and tried sitting up, I was still shaking and sweating. I could feel my body burning up in fever. But there was food. And I wouldn't miss that. I felt strong hands put me into a sitting position before Kort was gone, I went to thank him but the door was closing once more.

...

"Yes, everything's working out just as planned." I drawled out.

**Author's Note-Please Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Please review!**

He had been sedated. That was the last thing he could remember. He groaned, that had definitely not been part of the plan. He could smell smoke, but his eyes refused to open, his head felt like it was full of cotton candy. He wasn't able to think, or breath for that matter. It was so hot, the metal pressed to his back felt like a red hot branding iron. What was happening? He struggled to open his eyes, to move, but his hands were tied behind his back. _Well that's something new._ he thought trying to turn over but his body cramped in pain. His head was beginning to throb; it didn't help when suddenly there was a loud banging on the side of the container.

The door flew open, he could hear muffled shouts of, "NCIS! DiNozzo?" Turning over, he moved trying to make noise that would be heard over the roaring flames that engulfed the burning storage container. "Gibbs!" He couldn't catch his breath, his throat and lungs burned, all he could do was cough, and moan as he felt a strong hand close on his neck and pull him out the door into the fresh night air. He gulped down the clean cold air greedily. Still trying to open his eyes.

"Why can't I open my eyes?" He coughed out, as sensed Gibbs near by him.

"Kort! Where's DiNozzo? Where's Tony?" He could feel someone shaking him, could hear him too, he moaned and whispered, "Can't open my eyes."

"Kort, your eyes are open." Gibbs said, "Now where's DiNozzo?"

"Hotel room. Down town. La Rouge, room 465."

He was blind.

**EARLIER THAT DAY.**

He was fuming. They had seen him giving DiNozzo food and blankets. He cursed, he tried arguing with Devon, tried telling the scumbag that he was just doing his job, that it was a part of the torture. He tried explaining how getting DiNozzo accustomed to human comforts just to rip them away again could break a man faster than physical torture. The asshole hadn't listened, instead he had put Alistair and his dimwitted sidekick in control of the Agent's torture. He growled in frustration, wondering how he was going to pull of the great escape now. Leave it to DiNozzo to screw up an operation. Honestly, he wasn't getting paid enough for this shit.

He entered the control room, where the video feed from the camera in DiNozzo's cell ran across tv screens and was burned onto DVD's. He plopped angrily down into the computer chair, glowering at the screens, he had never been demoted, ever. Glaring at the huddled form on the screen, never before had anyone cost him such a valuable mission, he sneered trying to remind himself in the end it would be all worth it. He watched with disdain as Alistair and Nathan entered the container, it made him sick to watch DiNozzo's eyes light up, only to dull once more when he realized it wasn't Kort. Tony remained quiet, he closed his eyes, his body going limp with defeat.

Kort watched emotionlessly as they chained DiNozzo to the ceiling, forcing him to put pressure on his severely broken bones, the screams echoing off the metal walls as Alistair took a mallet to the already shattered bones. Nathan laughed, before biting DiNozzo's nipple, drawing blood and then sucking it. DiNozzo wiggled away from him as best as he could but there was no where's to go. DiNozzo stared up at the camera weakly. There was no way Tony knew he was up here watching. It just wasn't possible, yet his heart skipped a beat. When did he start caring about the no-good NCIS Agent anyway? He didn't move a muscle, not in sympathy, disgust or approval as the two men began beating DiNozzo with a two by four, or when they spelled out Fag with tacks they had stabbed in the man's gut.

He remained impassive as they ripped Tony's hair out with their hands, he leaned back watching bored as they took a grater to the agent's side. He wasn't really watching. Sure his eyes were glued to the screen but they were unfocused, lost in his own thoughts, in a new escape plan. It was only when suddenly everything went quiet that he snapped back to reality. He looked at the screen, really looked and his heart jumped to his throat. Green eyes were staring into his as Alistair was behind DiNozzo, his hands on his waist as he got ready to sexually violate the Agent. The dead look in DiNozzo's eyes made his insides turn to ice.

He jerked up, enraged. The two imbeciles never knew when to stop. They took what they wanted with no thought to a strategy or psychology. They weren't trained in torture techniques, no, they just caused as much random pain as possible. He growled and yanked open the door, stalking fast to where DiNozzo was being held he unlocked his chambers and threw the heavy door open. He was in time to see Alistair pressed against DiNozzo completely, moaning in the Agent's ear as DiNozzo closed his eyes, rage making his face turn bright red.

"What the hell are you doing in here? You were relieved of duty, fucktard!" Nathan sneered, Alistairs eyes glaring at him.

"You missed your turn with him Jordan. Pity really, he's very tight." Alistair mocked as he rocked his hips. Growling, Kort easily grabbed Nathan into a headlock, snapping his neck like it was a twig. DiNozzo's eyes latched onto his, as Alistair cursed him, pressing a knife against DiNozzo's neck as he stepped towards him to rip him away. Freezing, he met Tony's eyes, watching DiNozzo breathe in deeply, he nodded giving the signal, with a pained yell DiNozzo ran his heel into Alistairs balls, just as Kort took out his gun and put a bullet through the man's forehead. He watched the disgusting animal fall to the floor, curling his lip in hatred he unchained DiNozzo, cursing as he remembered he left the TV on, anyone could see him helping DiNozzo, and murdering two of Devon's men. It was only a matter of time before they came after him. And with DiNozzo in tow he needed the time, there was no doubt he'd be taking DiNozzo with him now, throwing the plan out the door. There were no other options, if he left DiNozzo the man would be dead in hours.

With his betrayal they wouldn't keep DiNozzo laive and if they did it would be to bait him. He couldn't allow that. His cover was already blown, he didn't need to be pinpointed by agency. He wrapped an arm around DiNozzo's waist, before throwing the man over his shoulder, ignoring his grumbled complaints he raised his gun moving out the door slowly, looking back and forth before quickly stalking as quietly as possible down the corridor. He probably only had minutes before they noticed the prisoner had escaped, and then only another few minutes for them to hunt him down, that is if he managed to avoid everyone in the hallways. Hearing footsteps he dived into the empty room, looking out the window, he heard the doorknob turning, he pulled the chain lock on it, putting DiNozzo down he opened the window.

"Think you can survive a twenty foot drop DiNozzo?" He drawled out challengingly, ducking as bullets blew out the glass behind him, he fired his weapon at the door, hearing a yelp as he got lucky, he picked DiNozzo up and stepped out the window, ducking into the fall, he hit the ground with a thud and a snap. He groaned as he rolled to his side, shoving DiNozzo off of him, he breathed shallowly, blood dripping from his mouth as he felt a piercing pain in his chest and side, he nudged DiNozzo. The man was out cold. He cursed.

"Lying fuck." He grumbled as he bent down, nearly collapsing as the pain sharpened, making it unable to breathe or even think, his whole side going numb, he coughed up blood as he scooped up DiNozzo and once more painfully threw him over his shoulder. He nearly couldn't get up under DiNozzo's weight and the crushing amount of pain he was in. He stumbled a few feet feeling the sweat dripping down his forehead, he was surprised no one was shooting at them, that wasn't a good sign, he knew it could only mean an ambush was in process. But there was no place else to go but forward. Hoping to survive he surged forward, only a few hundred more steps the his car. If he could make it, he could already feel the dizziness setting it. His breathing still painful, a bit of blood coming up his throat every once in a while.

It felt like someone was filleting him, he felt his stomach churn, biting down on the urge to vomit he tried shaking it off. Only to feel DiNozzo's weight shift painfully on his bruised shoulder. Hissing he slowly walked through the fence, once more raising his gun he stopped and listened. It was light out, the parking lot was only feet ahead of them and his car only two hundred feet. He looked along the sides, feeling the air whiz next to his ear he jerked back, wincing as the bullet embedded itself in the building. Suddenly the air was full of gun shots, bullets whizzed from all directions, he ducked, covering DiNozzo. He wasn't going to go through all this shit just to get him killed so close to freedom.

His mind went blank for only a minute but it was long enough for a bullet to blast through his knee from behind and shatter through his knee cap, bone fragments flying in all directions as he yelled, dropping to the ground he grabbed DiNozzo's shirt as the man began to stir and dragged him to the dumpster at the side of the building, the only hope of cover. He could feel his pulse rate, but not with glee this time. Usually he enjoyed these moments, but this time was different. This time there was another life at stake and his knee was blown out and he had at least one rib broken and sticking into his lungs with no hope of getting out alive. Not the best of odds.

He leaned against the building in hopes of getting his breathe back for just a minute, but under the barrage of bullets he could hardly find the time to blink. He looked at DiNozzo who look frustrated. He knew how it felt to be helpless in a situation as dire as this. He shoved his extra gun into the NCIS Agent's hand and prayed he wasn't making a mistake. They were shooting from the windows, from parked cars and from both sides of the building and gutters. He could wait it out but then they'd swarm him with either knives or sheer numbers, no much safer to get out now.

"DiNozzo, at my six." He said quietly as he crouched down, watching Tony crawl. He sprinted out, leaving DiNozzo to cover him from behind the dumpster, he shot as many as possible, aiming for the ones nearest him and in the windows. He knew he hit a few, he was even impressed when DiNozzo hit a few. He couldn't feel his leg, which was a blessing for the moment at least. Diving behind cars he shot out tires and windows which hid more shooters. Crouching he ran to get his car, looking back to make sure DiNozzo was still alive, every once in a while firing off his gun at the bad guys. Getting behind the wheel he cursed having to use his left foot to peddle.

Hitting the gas he slammed back into the car behind him before turning right, running down six shooters, this time with much glee. Screeching the car to a halt he opened the passenger side door as he ducked, the bullets breaking the glass, he watched Tony slowly climb in, grunting with pain. "Just get in the damn car DiNozzo!" He snapped out through shallow breathes, now pale and trembling. He almost smirked at the death glare he recieved, but he didn't have time to revel in normalcy. Once Tony was in the car he hit the gas pedal to the floor. He flew past the bullets and through the gates, screaming as a pole smashed through the windshield and impaled him in the waist, shattering his bones. He could hear other cars behind them starting up. They'd be able to travel a few streets before their cars gave out.

He tried to hold back his groans of agony, but it was only intensified when DiNozzo ripped the pole out of his waist, he screamed, the car swerving. "Bastard!" He yelled at the agent who just winked at him. Oh he could kill DiNozzo at the moment. Driving a few more blocks, yelling every time they were back-ended, he swerved onto a dirt-road that led to the highway, finally losing them in the brush he burst onto the highway and into main street.

He didn't notice the tail that followed him calmly, too much pain clouded his mind as he turned into the hotel minutes later. He booked a room with just his ID and Cell and grabbed the keys. Helping DiNozzo to the room, he laid him on the bed, before sitting on the sofa for a minute, trying to breath.

"You look like shit Kort." DiNozzo said from the bed.

He snorted, "You should be speaking DiNozzo."

"Could use some coffee. Oh I hope the boss man brings some." He heard DiNozzo say. Fuck, he had forgotten about Gibbs. He picked up his cell and dialed his number.

"Gibbs, hote-" Suddenly the door burst open, raising his gun and firing when he sees the black-clad figure, four more of them poured in he blocked their path into the bedroom where DiNozzo lay for as long as he could, he yelled as a bullet hit him in the shoulder, jerking him back, his cell clattering on the floor as he fell, they ripped open the doors only to find a bloodied bed and nothing more. He laughed. Good for DiNozzo.

Bad for him though. There was no where's for him to hide and two of them had their guns pointed at him. He blacked out as they dragged him to the elevator, he left his cell on the ground for DiNozzo.

...

Tony weakly crawled out of the closet. He had waited in there for a good half hour before being sure they weren't coming back, at least not right away. He slid slowly and gently across the floor, reaching for the cell that lay in the living room. He pushed re-dial.

"Kort, is everything okay?" He nearly wept with relief when he heard the love of his life's voice on the other end.

"Boss." He gasped out, relief sweeping through him, tears prickling his eyes, he blinked them back.

"DiNozzo! Where are you, what's going on?" Gibbs shouted over the phone.

"In a hotel room, Trent knows where but they got Trent. Don't know where. Probably back at headquarters." He said weakly.

"How badly hurt are you?" Gibbs spoke in a demanding tone, one Tony had longed to hear for months.

"Bad enough. I think I can survive a bit longer, just please, hurry up. The battery is dying. You'll have to get Trent, no time for a trace." He spoke quickly, the beeping of the phone alerting him to the time left.

"DiNozzo hold on we're coming for you." He heard his boss say.

"Boss?" He said hopefully, not knowing if Gibbs would make it in time this was his chance to finally say it. "I love you."

He was met with silence.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

**Folks, I'm sorry. But i just got a new job, and it's really hard work. So I won't be able to update until POSSIBLY next week sometime. Also, I may not be able to post next week either. I don't have the time for long-term fics. If someone wanted to take this story from me, go for it. Otherwise sit tight, I will finish it eventually, even if it's not updated in the next two weeks!**


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